


Never Enough

by orphan_account



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1911354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris isn't supposed to touch Zach. But sometimes, he forgets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Enough

**Author's Note:**

> In response to this [post](http://pintoinlove.tumblr.com/post/90983910015/watch-this-clip-and-focus-on-chris-as-hes) and its tinhattery.

Chris isn't supposed to touch Zach. He's been warned about it multiple times. _It's too obvious_ , his publicist scolds him on a regular basis. _Your body language gives you away_.

He knows it's true.

But sometimes, he forgets.

When Zach is feigning a sad face, playing along with the interviewer teasing that JJ doesn't like him. And the thing is Chris knows Zach is playing along, but he can't seem to help himself. He reaches behind Zach's shoulder, patting it comfortingly, rubbing along his shoulder blade and then he nearly cringes when he catches his publicist's eye.

"Right, sorry," he mutters to himself, or maybe it's to her. He pulls his arm away though, grips the arm of the chair, just to make sure he doesn't reach out again. His publicist is glaring at him, and the mouthed _I know_ is out before he can stop it. He spends the rest of the interview monitoring his movements, his words.

He can tell Zach senses something is off, just a quick glance that no one else would probably be able to interpret, but just in case, Chris tries to relax and get back into the spirit of the thing.

It doesn't really work.

As soon as the interview is over, the microphones turned off, his publicist converges. She pulls him away to a corner of the room and goes over in fine detail why he agreed to this in the first place, what he'll lose if he fucks up, and then proceeds to give him detailed instructions on how not to fuck up for the rest of the day.

He nods along, ignoring the growing resentment until she sighs in exasperation. "It's your career," she snaps, and Chris glances away. Zach is watching them from across the room, his frown announcing to anyone who knows him that he is about to break up their little meeting. Chris shakes his head minutely and turns back to his publicist.

"I know," he says quietly. "I'll keep it in check," he promises.

She sighs again, quietly this time, tries to say something vaguely conciliatory but Chris is only half-listening.

"We're on the same page, then?" his publicist asks hopefully.

"Same page," he assures her, gets a pat on the arm. She lets him escape after that, for the paltry break they've been allowed. Zach, by that point, is no longer in the room. Chris tries to ignore the twinge in his chest that comes with the disappointment and gets out of there before anyone else can trap him.

There's nowhere to hide unfortunately, and so he goes to his tiny dressing room and slumps in the only chair, ignores the springs as they dig into his ass and lights a cigarette. At least she never yells at him about those.

They're the only thing keeping him sane at the moment. He leans his head back and stares at the puffs of smoke obscuring the ceiling.

The door opens a moment later, no knock, no warning, but he knows it's Zach. Zach's the only one who doesn't knock.

He tips his head back, smiles a little at the odd picture Zach makes when he's upside down. "It looks like your hair should fall right off your head."

Zach frowns at him, although from this angle it looks like he's wearing a deranged smile. He plucks the cigarette from Chris' mouth, takes a deliberate drag and then doesn't give it back.

Chris sighs and lifts his head a little, watching as he walks around the chair to fold himself gracefully on the floor like the scruffy ballerina he is. "You'll wrinkle," Chris tells him, just to be a dick.

Zach exhales a thick cloud, flicks ash so it falls onto the scuffed floor and ignores Chris' childishness completely. "What did she say?"

"Reminded me that good boys don't touch other boys," Chris says flippantly.

"Good old catholic school stuff, huh?"

"Pretty much."

Zach is watching him with that same thoughtful look again, despite the dry tone. After a moment of the silent contemplation, and one more long drag, he grinds the cigarette on the tile, probably leaving a burn while he does it. Chris' gaze flicks away from the twisted remains of the fag and back to Zach's face. To the dark eyes.

"Come here," Zach says quietly, but Chris can't. He shakes his head. Zach's brows draw together, and it's almost enough to make Chris move, but he feels stuck to the chair.

Again the deep frown, and then Zach is standing with the same grace, one fluid movement and Chris can't look away. His eyes follow the line of long legs, the plaid shirt that shouldn't look so good on him, up to his chest, that brief glimpse of the hair that Chris can rarely keep his hands out of, and the silver necklace brushing his clavicle.

It's only a few steps, but Chris holds his breath the entire way, is still holding it when Zach carefully straddles his lap, when those big hands settle on his shoulders. He starts kneading and leans in close to order softly, "… breathe."

So Chris does, lets his lungs expand noisily and isn't at all prepared when Zach kisses him. Basically exhaling into Zach's mouth, but he doesn't seem to care, only kisses him harder, reminds him what's really important with each bruising glance of his lips. Makes him forget about his publicist and her decree, the secrets that he doesn't want to keep anymore.

He wants this on the front page, on all the newsfeeds. _Chris and Zach_ , for all the world to see. With everything that comes with it, the congratulations and the jeers. The broken contracts. The aspirations flushed down the toilet.

He can't have that.

He _can_ have this though, Zach's lips; Zach's hands sliding beneath his shirt to caress his skin. This is all Zach has as well. It's easy to remember that now, to unbutton his shirt and run fingers through the soft hair because it makes Zach groan into his mouth.

It's all they have right now. It'll have to be enough.


End file.
